


Jupiter

by CaptainOptimism



Series: Space [1]
Category: Ratched (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, I love these women, Learning to share your life is Hard, Though inspiration was drawn from a song, not a songfic, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27289684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainOptimism/pseuds/CaptainOptimism
Summary: She was grateful the universe had granted her the ability to plan things around appointments, to plan breakfast and lunch and dinner and when to start percolating the coffee and how much time she had left at the end of the day to finish the latest medical journal she'd snagged from Bucket's desk. She was grateful to be given the chance to make sense of the chaos, to organize her tragedies.
Relationships: Gwendolyn Briggs/Mildred Ratched
Series: Space [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1992571
Comments: 8
Kudos: 71





	Jupiter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [a_mess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_mess/gifts).



> Hello and welcome!  
> This series was born after I read WildnessBecomesYou's fic they based off of Sleeping At Last's "Two" (which in and of itself is Quality Content) and fell absolutely in love. The Enneagram album led me to the Space EP and here we are!  
> Our girls are so wonderfully broken. I'm in love. Anywho, lyrics I drew inspiration from are below, Enjoy!  
> \---  
> "While collecting the stars, I connected the dots  
> I don't know who I am, but now I know who I'm not  
> . . .  
> Make my messes matter  
> Make this chaos count  
> Let every little fracture in me  
> Shatter out loud"

When she was sixteen Mildred Ratched made the revelation that schedules were easily manipulated. They could be bent and flexed, rearranged to the liking of the people in power -- the people who held control.

Her adolescence was filled with a great lack of structure. The children were fed lunch and dinner whenever scraps could be found for them, those meals were never something she could rely on. They were punished often, but never at the same time in one week. It drove Mildred up the wall. Later in life she'd realized it only happened this way so she and Edmund would be guaranteed to be caught off guard, gangly arms held at their side rather than up in self defense, and backs held straight and strong -- turns out they made for perfect targets when their bodies could manage to relax.

So it only makes sense that by eighteen, while living alone with no one attached to her but her elusive brother, Mildred Ratched followed a strict personal routine.

Rise at 6, Breakfast at 6:30.

Lunch at 12, Dinner at 5:30 and back to sleep by 9.

The rest of the day was spent looking for Edmund.

She'd been elated when she'd found him, overjoyed when he'd told her when he'd be getting out.

"Next Wednesday, 8:00 a.m.," he'd promised.

She'd been so consumed with the idea of family, her family, that she practically skipped down every block back to her motel room. She circled next Wednesday's date in bold, black ink and scrawled 'Edmund 8 a.m.' in the designated box, beaming at the sight of it.

That next Wednesday she waited for almost two hours in nervous silence before someone had the decency to tell her that Edmund had already gone. It was only the second week of March, but she'd torn out the page of the calendar, leaving only a ragged edge of a rearranged schedule behind.

Her self discipline happened to come in handy once she'd found her way into the army. Sure she no longer had control over her schedule, but every day was the same. Every day was bound to last 27 hours and there would always be more bodies -- never time to sit and wonder how differently her life may have been if she had been brought into this world by a wave of tranquility instead of the storm that she seemed to be thrown from.

After the war she wondered if her necessity for routine was only reinforced by the war -- if it had cemented her into a life of always checking the clock for the top of the hour, if she was doomed to live life through the pages of a date book.

She'd experimented with living life more freely, with taking things as they came and not as she'd planned for them to come. Aside from making her nauseous, she found that it gave her terrible nightmares. She flinched at every stranger's polite "hello" and she erupted in cold chills if someone happened to bump her shoulder in passing. Giving herself the illusion of control served her better than giving into entropy.

So she stuck to her own schedule and put anyone who questioned it in their place. She took precautions to make sure that her day unfolded as she planned it to, never up to the discretion of any outside opinion.

Arriving in Lucia had brought her to the startling realization that her tight schedule would no longer serve her as it had in the years before. Edmund reappearing into her life had submerged her back into a state of constant worry and, as it so happened, working every second of every day to protect the only family you've ever known leaves you little time to plan your days to your liking.

Though now that his destiny was in the hands of the Governor, she'd allowed her mind to give into the exhaustion. There was little to worry about but Gwendolyn anymore, which meant she had all the time in the world to fall back into the only habit that'd ever proven to do her any good.

A cancer diagnosis leaves one little free time, and though it tore Mildred apart every day to watch Gwendolyn suffer, she was grateful the universe had granted her the ability to plan things around appointments, to plan breakfast and lunch and dinner and when to start percolating the coffee and how much time she had left at the end of the day to finish the latest medical journal she'd snagged from Bucket's desk.  She was grateful to be given the chance to make sense of the chaos, to organize her tragedies.

It became a Sunday ritual. She'd wake before Gwendolyn at around 5, arrange each hour of her day for the week, chewing on her left thumb as her right hand twirled the pen she'd made a habit of using from Gwendolyn's stationary set. She'd stare at the hastily scribbled on appointment cards from the oncologist amidst the notes in her planner that she'd made from the previous week, reminding her of incoming patients and how taking the highway in the rain last Monday resulted in an added five minutes to her daily commute. Mildred absorbed each piece of the puzzle until she'd made a mosaic of timestamps and memos that suited her.

Despite all of this she was arriving home later than she'd hoped to tonight. A petty disagreement with one of the newer nurses about how the hand towels should be folded and a car accident just five minutes outside of the hospital's gates left Mildred pulling up to Gwendolyn's house around 6:43. She pulled out her date book and huffed in disappointment as she crossed out  _ Dinner, 6:15 _ .

Gwendolyn rose from her spot in the den, dog-earring her novel as she moved to help Mildred out of her coat with an easy smile.

"There she is. I was worried you'd forgotten about me," she jabbed, rising on her toes to press a kiss to Mildred's temple.

Mildred all but whipped her head around at this comment, the tension falling from her shoulders and face easing into a tight grin once she processed the teasing tone in Gwendolyn's voice. She'd gotten better at playful banter since engaging in it with someone who didn't make their jokes at her expense. She was still working on it.

"Hi," she replied, her tone easier now as she ran her knuckles across Gwendolyn's cheek, partially as a sign of her affection, and partially in an attempt to discreetly take the redhead's temperature. The last thing either woman needed was a cold.

"Have you eaten? I was thinking something easy tonight but I think I could muster up the energy to cook a real meal if you're in the mood for something particular." It was easy conversation, a simple question. Gwendolyn slipped her arms around Mildred's waist, letting their bodies sway in the dim lighting of the foyer as Mildred seemed to ponder her words, almost as if she'd just been asked to find the square root of a prime number.

Maybe she'd forgotten to adjust the analog clock in her car for daylight savings time. Mildred checked her watch from where her arms had eased themselves to rest gently on Gwendolyn's shoulders.  _ 6:48 _ . Another reminder her day had gotten away from her. It made her chest clench.

"Oh, no, it's past 6:30. I'll just make sure to leave earlier tomorrow," she reasoned.

It was Gwendolyn's turn to be confused.

"I'm not sure I'm understanding, sweetness."

Mildred let out a slightly juvenile huff, taking a half step back but never losing contact with the woman she stood entangled with.

"It's past 6:30," she began slowly, earnestly, as if that were the part not making sense to Gwendolyn, "I told you I'd be home around 6 so we could eat by 6:30. It's now almost 7 o'clock, I missed my window."

"Well yes, but," Gwendolyn set her jaw as she tried her best to maneuver this situation. She'd learned very early on that it took a certain amount of patience to navigate Mildred, and she'd also come to learn that Mildred had become accustomed to feeling misunderstood, feeling crazy whenever she had to explain herself. No more of that.

"Darling you haven't eaten, and you've had what seems to be a very long day. I think I'd feel more comfortable if we got something in your stomach before bed. You need your strength just as much as I do."

Call it stress, call it a lifetime of having to always be on the defense, but Mildred's head began swimming. She didn't want to snap at Gwendolyn the way she had at others who'd questioned her routine, who'd mocked her need for structure, but she wasn't quite sure how to make her next move. She'd never expected Gwendolyn to be the one to come in and disrupt her schedule like it'd never meant anything in the first place. Unless she really was that much of a burden. She hadn't even considered that Gwendolyn had her own schedule that she was potentially interrupting.  How selfish she was, waltzing into her home and her life like she belonged th--

"Hey, come on back to me."

Gwendolyn's voice was nothing more than a whisper, but it quickly unraveled the spiral Mildred was spinning in her mind.

"I don't.. it's," Mildred felt the sting of tears and she hated herself. It shouldn't be this hard.

"Easy now," the shorter woman began running her thumb along Mildred's spine, hoping to ground her, hoping to keep her head from floating clean off her shoulders. "Come sit with me?"

Questions always made it easier to follow Gwen's instructions. They felt less patronizing, less like Mildred was a stray cat that Gwendolyn was trying to tiptoe around for fear of being scratched.

They made their way to the couch, Gwen leaning into the crook in the corner they'd built over months of laying side by side, and Mildred nearly on top of her, a leg tucked under herself as she forced herself to face the green eyes waiting patiently before her.

"Let's figure this out," Gwendolyn started, her voice still calm, quiet -- no expectations hiding behind it.

Mildred took a breath, again, quite exasperated as she willed herself to steady her thoughts. She reached for the breast pocket of her uniform, pulling out the well-loved planner and flipping to her plan for today, neatly arranged line by line.

"I'd planned on having dinner at 6:30," she began, swallowing around the words that seemed to burn in the back of her throat, "but I've already crossed it out. We.. I can't."

God, she felt stupid. There was no explaining yourself when you led a life alone, no sharing inconveniences and secrets and worries. This was all so new, so different.

Gwendolyn outstretched her hand, never moving closer without Mildred's permission.

"May I?"

Mildred felt her breathing fall out of rhythm, her eyes never leaving Gwendolyn's as she placed the small book in her hands, tensing for the worst.

Gwendolyn gently flipped through the latest pages, smiling earnestly when she noticed the small scrap of paper tucked against the binding from about two weeks prior. A note she'd written to Mildred when she'd gone for a walk later in the afternoon than she normally would've, just in case Mildred beat her home.

_ 'Back soon. Love you dearly. X' _

As she combed through the days she made sense of the pattern, the meticulous arrangements of meals and work and appointments and phone calls and reading and discreet meetings. Of course.

"How long have you been planning your days like this?" It was a genuine question, no malice hidden between words, but Gwendolyn immediately noticed the spark of panic that lit within Mildred's eyes.

"I only ask because it's  _ impressive _ , Mildred. This kind of organization requires.. a knack. One that you certainly seem to possess."

"I was eighteen. When I started."

The answer jumped off of her tongue without permission, and for a split second she feared that the sadness that fell on Gwendolyn's features was a look of pity.

' _ God what a pathetic life she's lived _ .' She manufactured the words coming out of Gwendolyn's lips in her head so clearly, so precisely that she was taken by surprise when they never actually came.

"Can I ask you to consider something for me?"

Mildred's eyes darted back and forth, the worry building and tumbling in her stomach preventing her from truly focusing. She set her jaw and her eyes feigned shock.

"I won't throw it away, and I'm insulted you'd even ask me such a thing!"

The defenses began to rise, the barbed wire wrapping itself around her words, the iron gates shutting behind her eyes, all in a matter of seconds.

"No, sweetheart I wouldn't --"

"The world has been  _ happening to me _ without my consent for as long as I can remember. Everybody  _ taking _ and  _ telling me _ and making my life easier for  _ them _ to handle, making me more convenient for them. This, this is what I have," Mildred was standing now, having snatched the book out of Gwendolyn's hands and clutching it like she would slip out of existence if she let even a fingertip lose contact with it.

"This isn't for you to decide, this is mine. This.. stupid book and these stupid plans are the only thing I've ever had a say in, and me loving you doesn't mean you get to become like all of the others."

Gwendolyn had never seen anyone speak with so much fire, so much accusation. It stung. She watched the frantic movements of Mildred's body and swallowed any tears that hovered on the edge of her eyes. If only words were enough to fill the cracks and tears and burns scattered across this woman's psyche. If only it were easy enough to pledge her trust, her love to Mildred and have her understand that she meant it. That she hadn't felt this whole since she was a child, that she’d resented the idea of being consumed by someone until she'd met Mildred.

Of course it wouldn't be that simple. Nothing had ever been gifted to Mildred that easily.

"Mildred," she began, her hands unsteady, but held up in surrender, "I don't want you to give anything up. Not for me, not for anyone."

The brunette still stood fuming in the middle of the room, looking almost as if she were about to break out into a sprint should Gwendolyn say the wrong thing.

"But I need you to trust that, to the best of my abilities I will never, never, do anything, or  _ make you _ do anything that you do not have a say in. You're the woman I love, yes, but at the end of the day you are a person.  A person of value, a person of intelligence and intellect, and you deserve, at the very least, to lead a life that you've agreed to."

Tears rolled down Mildred's face, her features set in stoic anger as she continued to grip the book between her fists.

Gwendolyn rose to her feet, taking one step closer, doing her best to bridge their physical gap without becoming imposing.

"Darling, your book, you're bending it," she noted gently, reaching a hand out as she noticed Mildred's shoulders fall, like the exhaustion built up from the day had somehow overpowered her fury, her betrayal.

She wrapped a hand around Mildred's fists, holding there and letting the shaking woman relax under her.

"I need you to consider a compromise," it came after what felt like hours of silence that was infiltrated only by ragged breathing.

Before Mildred could even begin shaking her head Gwendolyn started up again, putting a stop to Mildred's intrusive thoughts before they could land their first blow.

"Can you start giving yourself more time? More flexibility? You're not a stopwatch, t here's no way you can possibly keep worrying yourself sick over schedules like this and keep yourself healthy. And one of us needs to keep strong, I doubt we can afford anymore doctor's appointments," her sentiment ended with a dry smile, hoping Mildred heard her, really heard her.

There was a pause, a sunspot appearing in the storm that still raged inside of Mildred's chest, and then, softly, out of the silence, "don't talk like that."

Another pause, a sigh. 

"I don't know how to exist without.. without time to lean on." Time has no surprises.

"I am not asking you to live without structure, or to suddenly fall in love with the idea of not knowing what's around every corner."

Mildred felt relieved. That's that then.

" _ However _ ," Gwendolyn's inflection perked up, leaning in further, touching her forehead to Mildred's. Both women reveled in the contact, even as Mildred felt the pit in her stomach seem to reappear, "I am asking you to learn to fall back on me. Not all the time, and I don't have to be your first choice.. just, when the world seems to get in between you and time, understand that I will always be here."

She wanted to squirm out of her skin. Relying on people rather than constructs, trusting in someone not to run -- none of that had ever done her any good before.

"Mildred, try for me. Please," her grip on Mildred's fists grew tighter and her voice gave way to her desperation, her vulnerability on full display.

How had this woman managed to cut her way through so much of her life, so much of her head, and in such a short time? And, God, how had Mildred allowed herself to stay open long enough to let her?

"Okay."

"Thank you," Gwendolyn sighed, and Mildred had never heard such relief spill out of a person. 

"Wanna try taking a first step together?"

"Not particularly."

" _ Mildred _ ."

"Go on then."

"Dinner tonight, 7:30, my place."

A pause as Mildred clenched her eyes shut, holding her book close, but Gwendolyn closer.

"See you there."

**Author's Note:**

> How are we feeling, anyone need a hug? Leave your thoughts below, please and thanks! <3


End file.
